


Estranged

by PaisleyHearts



Series: This Is Us [3]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M, PWP, alcohol cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyHearts/pseuds/PaisleyHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's happened many times before<br/>Tonight is different</p>
            </blockquote>





	Estranged

In all the times they had hooked up, Oliver had never been over to Connor’s place. But this wasn’t exactly like all the other times. They were both a little too drunk. Enough for Connor to accidentally tip the taxi driver a twenty instead of his usual five. But he wasn’t exactly worried about money when there was a lap full of Oliver sucking a brilliant mark onto his neck.

They only make it as far as the living room couch before pants come off. There are fingers moving insistently inside of Connor and he’s been ready for ages, but Oliver is always about being oh so careful. As if he could break. As if he were made of glass.

Right now he feels like he’s made of air, expanding and condensing into this moment. Then he’s all flesh again as the sudden realization hits him. “I’m out of condoms.”

Oliver keeps moving insistently, grinding up into him and taking a nipple into his mouth. “Doesn’t matter. Trust you.”

Now, Connor is drunk. But he’s not drunk enough to miss the significance of that. There’s a huge part of him that wants to climb off Oliver’s lap and kick him out immediately. And there’s another small and persistent part of him and that’s saying that this is okay. This is okay and it doesn’t change anything.

He changes their positions so that Connor is sitting on Oliver’s lap. “If that’s what you want.” And in one swift motion he sinks down all the way. He tries to keep his face straight, just so he can see Oliver nearly choke in pleasure, throwing his back with a throaty “God _damn_ Connor.”

It’s always the same with him. Like he has never had anything as good as Connor surrounding him. As if Connor is some gift that was sent to him wrapped up in a puedo-asshole attitude and a bad singing voice. And Connor can’t handle that right now, not ever. So he loses himself in the rhythm - in the sparks that are slowly building in intensity as he keeps hitting that spot every few thrusts. He takes his nails and runs them down Oliver’s chest, digging a little harshly in his enthusiasm and ghosts his lips above his ear, breathing harshly, filling the air with his expert dirty talk.

And what he gets back is the opposite of what he wants. “You’re perfect. So perfect. Always so good for me. What did I do to deserve you?”

That brings a gasp out of Connor. Because he’s not a precious gift to the world, no matter what he makes others believe. He’s the one that doesn’t deserve everything Oliver has given him - is giving him. Over and over, they do this and call it hooking up. But when did it stop being that? When did it go from meaningless sex to dates and _I wonder what movie he prefers?_

He takes Oliver in a violent kiss in order to hide the whimper that threatens to escape his lips and comes, hot and dirty. There’s a split second that Connor spends on thinking that they should probably go bareback more often since he can feel everything more intensely this way. The rest of the moments are spent in a fire that consumes him and the only thing that he recognizes is Oliver’s name spilling from his lips.

He’s starting to come down from his high when Oliver comes as well, hotter than he could imagine, deep inside of him.

They separate, almost painfully and fall sideways onto the couch. Connor wraps his arms around Oliver without saying a word. They’re still running on sex high and alcohol, so he can blame that for what he’s doing. He wants to hold onto this moment for as long as possible. Because he knows moments like this fall between your fingers like sand. So he’ll cup this little piece of time between both palms and contain it for as long as he can. If that means that Oliver leaves in the morning, then so be it. But they’re going to spend the night together, legs entangled with one another.

Oliver can’t find it in him to complain.


End file.
